


Spark

by akire_yta



Series: prompt ficlets [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Gen, Magic!Stiles, akificlets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-23 00:13:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/919702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akire_yta/pseuds/akire_yta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt:  Stiles, human,  magic</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spark

"The laws of physic can kiss my ass, yeah!" Stiles did a ridiculous little dance around the empty concourse. He winced as his shout of triumph echoed off the factory walls and bare concrete. Human-eating monsters, right.

Stiles ran over to double check the ash line was still thick and whole, and then paused. He hadn't heard so much as a snarl yet, but that didn't mean they weren't close.

Stiles' ribs were still bruised from the last time he thought a shadow was harmless and Alpha-pack free.

Heart racing, he paced the line and waited, holding himself tense and ready. Like a cat. Like a puma. Like a lion, ready to strike and...

"Stiles?"

"Gah!" Stiles yelled, but managed to stop himself from kicking the line. "Dad?"

The sheriff flashed his light across Stiles' face, wrecking his night vision. "No, you can't be Stiles, because my son is tucked up in bed, not lurking in an industrial estate at a quarter to midnight."

Oh shit, sarcasm voice. Stiles was in big trouble, and it was only going to get bigger if he didn't get his dad out of here right now. "Yes, you're right, but you should probably go check on that bed right now," Stiles said, flapping his hands like he was herding ducks.

"Oh look," a voice growled from the shadows. Seriously, this guy was an Olympic gold medallist in shadow-lurking. "A two-for-one special."

Stiles had already spun around, putting himself between the darkest shadow and his dad. No no no, this was not good, where the fuck was Derek? He needed teeth and fangs and muscle mass to deal with this, not dad's revolver and as much sarcasm as Team Stilinski could generate.

Speaking of guns, his dad had drawn his. "Show yourself," he ordered in his best Sheriff's voice.

"Since you asked so nicely." And Stiles was an expert in listening to words mangled by a set of fangs getting in the way, and in his expert opinion, they sounded like it was 'oh what big teeth you have' giant pearly whites territory now.

Then two bright red spots glowed in the darkness, a darker, bloodier red than Derek's. The shadows moved and twisted and a monster stepped out of a Lugosi movie and into his dad's line of fire.

His dad had side-stepped Stiles, bodily protecting him, and oh no no, nice try, but his dad was totally not prepared for this. Stiles had wondered if he'd ever come to rue his decision to protect his dad by keeping him ignorant.

Definitely rueing.

Big Bad Wolf bared his fangs and stepped forward. Stiles tried not to even think 'mountain ash line.' The Alpha looked down as he hit the edge of the barrier. "Nice try, whelp," he slurred past his teeth. "But I'm a 21st century monster." He pulled out of his jacket pocket one of those tiny fold-down , battery powered fans, the kinds weird sports fans take to the game on hot days.

Stiles stared, feeling the barrier dissolve as he blew a break in the line of ash. He stepped sideways, drawing the monster's attention. "Nice trick, Balto," he stalled, hoping like fuck Derek was just waiting to make one of his fucked up awesome entrances.

The click of his dad drawing the hammer on his gun broke the moment. "We need you to draw out that pup of an Alpha," he snarled, dropping to all fours as he swiveled on the spot. "Don't need anyone else, and I'm _hungry_."

Stiles saw his dad's eyes widen, the jerk of the gun as he fired totally normal lead bullets, the splash of a direct hit, all in slow motion.

He blinked, and the skeins of power left flapping when the ash line had been broken coalesced in his hand. "Hey wolfie," he called, drawing back and letting them fly like a punch.

It caught the attacking Alpha mid-leap, throwing him sideways with enough force to crack the brick wall on the far side of the yard.

Of course, that was when Derek arrived, Scott and a bleeding Isaac in his wake. "Get my dad out of here," he ordered, and the beta wolves didn't even think of disobeying.

Scott half carried, half dragged the Sheriff out of there. Stiles didn't even hear his protests. He was safe, Scott would guarantee that.

He stepped up besides Derek, winding the power around his fingers. It had always been there, he realized with a preternatural calm. He just had to call. "Now," he said, feeling Derek's strength, the weight of the ash line, the ghosts that had followed this monster here. "Let's give you a good old fashioned Beacon Hills welcome."

The magic lit up the yard.


End file.
